


All Those Lovely Things

by non_tiembo_mala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dirty Talk, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Lingerie, M/M, Nipple Play, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-14 22:15:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16921419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/non_tiembo_mala/pseuds/non_tiembo_mala
Summary: Sam doesn't always understand the things that drive his brother crazy, but they usually end up working for him, too.AKA it's Christmas and everybody wins!





	All Those Lovely Things

**Author's Note:**

> I blame [Tal](https://twitter.com/bewlaysister) and [SaltandByrne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandbyrne) for this one. Weecest is my weakness. Sam is 13, so be warned if that's not your thing! 
> 
> Beta'd by [Manda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancing_Adrift).
> 
> Title from Otis Redding's _Merry Christmas Baby_.

“Gimme those titties, Sammy, yeah,” Dean growls, shoving Sam’s too-big-used-to-be-Dean’s t-shirt up to bunch under his arms. He has Sam pinned to the wall with a thigh between his legs, and he uses both hands to cup Sam’s nothing chest like there’s something actually there. Sam’s not sure his face could get any hotter, but apparently there are exceptions, like when his big brother is saying _that_.

Dean’s hands are rough and the pull hurts but so good – so much of what Sam likes is laced with pain, and he’s not sure that’s normal but if it’s not at least he and Dean are the same that way – so Sam gasps and pushes into them, even if he is a little surprised by it. This– this is new.

“So pretty, baby,” Dean sighs, leaning to kiss at Sam’s mouth while his thumbs rub over the nubs of Sam’s nipples. _I’m not a girl_ , Sam wants to say, but all that comes out is an incoherent, mostly strangled whine. Dean chuckles a little darkly against his mouth, not easing up on Sam’s nipples in the slightest. 

“Think I don’t know, huh?” He teases, somehow having understood the mess of noise Sam made, moving his leg to press harder against Sam’s leaking dick, so wet there’s definitely going to be a spot on Dean’s jeans. “Never said you were.”

He lets go of Sam’s mouth to duck his head, kiss and suck his way down his neck, and Sam’s head thumps back against the wall, his eyes fluttering shut. 

“Still the prettiest,” Dean mumbles absently as he makes colour bloom in sore spots down Sam’s chest, and it’s getting to be too much. Sam’s thirteen years old and Dean has many well-developed skills, but chief among them is taking his little brother apart. His thigh is thick and hard against Sam’s cock, and Sam bucks his hips in the small space Dean allows him to chase the friction, on his tip-toes because Dean is so much bigger. His nipples are starting to feel sore under Dean’s thumbs but then his brother’s letting them go so his tongue can tease at one instead and Sam startles, sucking in a big gasp of air as he knocks his head against the wall. 

“Like that, Sammy?” Dean chuckles, pausing to look up and make sure Sam’s head didn’t hit too hard. Sam nods, a little frantic, too breathless to speak, and Dean just grins, smug as shit. He sucks the nub into his mouth and Sam keens, fingers digging into Dean’s shoulder. 

“ _Dean,_ ” he gasps again, and he means to say he’s close next, but Dean rolls his nipple between his teeth and Sam is coming before he has the chance to form any more words, crying out and shuddering through it.

“Yeah, baby, that’s it, _fuck_ ,” Dean groans against his chest, then keeps sucking on that nipple, gentler now. Sam’s still breathing fast and his heart is like thunder in his ears when he’s done spilling into his underwear. Dean stands up all the way, the air filling the space he vacates cool on Sam’s spit-soaked nipple, and goosebumps break out over Sam's skin as he starts to shake. 

“Hold on, Sammy.” Dean eases his thigh down but before Sam’s legs can give out his big brother’s got his arms wrapped around him and he’s picking him up. Sam’s not a little kid anymore, okay, he’s going to be tall, they can already tell, but Dean’s still got most of a foot on him, and a hell of a lot more muscle. Sam would gripe about getting moved around like he's nothing but he feels too good still, loose and easy after coming, and, truthfully, there might be a part of him that kind of likes it. 

Dean _tosses_ him onto the bed, but before he’s done bouncing on the shitty mattress, Dean is on top of him, a knee on either side of his hips, undoing his belt. 

“C’mon, baby, hold your shirt up for me, lemme see ‘em,” Dean pants, getting his zipper down and reaching in to get out his dick. 

Sam’s hands are shaky but he does as Dean asks, dragging the hem of the shirt back up his chest. 

“Yeah, shit. Better’n any girl, Sammy,” Dean groans, finally fucking in to his fist, and Sam’s feels a shivery wave of pleasure sweep down his whole body. He loves his big brother like this, that _he_ ’s the reason why Dean is sinking his teeth into his bottom lip and speeding up his hand on his dick. He arches his back, lifts his chest up like an offering, and Dean curses again.

“So good to me, fuck,” Dean drops down closer, propped up with one fist in the mattress, and sweat drips off his face onto Sam’s cheek. “Gonna come on those perfect titties.”

One stroke, another, and then Dean grunts like he’s been hit in the gut. The first splash on Sam’s chest is warm, and he hums as more of Dean’s come lands in ropes across his skin. He flinches when it hits his abused nipple, and some winds up on this throat by the time Dean is sighing and milking the last drops from the tip of his cock, the arm keeping him upright shaking with the effort. 

Dean sits back on his heels, his ass brushing Sam’s knees, and he looks down at Sam, laying there with his come splattered all over his chest. He’s shiny with sweat, face flushed, and Sam wants to always be the reason his big brother looks like this. 

“Sam, baby, so fucking pretty, look at you,” he says, a little awed. Sam squirms at the praise, loves how it makes him feel, and Dean flops down onto the bed beside him. He catches his breath a moment then rolls over to lick and kiss Sam clean. 

Sam threads his fingers in Dean’s hair and melts into the mattress, holding his brother’s head to his chest as he moves his mouth all over, warm and wet. It’s lazy now, unhurried and easy, but as Dean gently sucks on Sam’s nipple, humming around it and making Sam shiver, it gets Sam thinking. 

\---

It’s only been a week since, so the idea hasn’t been in Sam’s head very long when he freezes in his tracks in the middle of the aisle at Wal-Mart. It’s three weeks til Christmas and Sam has already started worrying about what he can do to make it special for Dean, but the answer is staring him in the face. 

_So pretty, Sammy_ , he hears Dean’s voice in his head as he looks at it hanging there on the rack, and he swallows thickly. He can see the size on the tag from here – women’s small – and he looks around quickly to see if anyone’s around. Satisfied no one is watching him, he doesn’t let himself think about it one second more, no hesitation despite the dramatic uptick of his heart rate, grabbing it and stuffing it inside the bulk of his too-big-used-to-be-Dean’s winter coat. 

\---

Sam can’t stop thinking about it now. Keeping secrets in their life is next to impossible, so he is painfully aware of it stashed away in a garbage bag in the bottom of his backpack, burning a hole in the one place he figures Dean won’t go looking. He hasn’t even had time to really examine it, much less try it on, and he needs to make sure it fits otherwise he’s back to the drawing board. 

When Dean stops at the foot of the driveway belonging to the shitty cabin they’re currently calling home without pulling into it, making no move to get out of the driver’s seat, Sam raises his eyebrows in question and tries not to look hopeful.

“Dad needs me to pick something up from Caleb and run it to him. You’re on your own tonight, kiddo. Sorry,” he says, sincere, and usually Sam would be a grouchy little bitch about it – Dean makes sure he knows it – so he tries to look mad, even if his pulse has quickened.

“I probably won’t be back til close to midnight, alright?”

“Yeah, Dean, whatever,” Sam huffs, grabbing his backpack and turning away from him, sliding his legs out of the door, his boots crunching in the snow. 

“Hey,” Dean says, leaning across the seat to grab Sam’s backpack, the only thing he can reach, and Sam freezes, whipping around quickly and wrenching the bag out of his brother’s fingers hard enough Dean looks taken aback. “I really am sorry. I’ll make it up to you when I get in, ‘kay?” 

It’s unfair how Dean looks right now, suggestive because he is, but that look in his eyes that tells Sam he really doesn’t want to be leaving him, either. Sam feels a little shitty, truthfully, and he kicks at the snow built up behind the front wheel well. 

“Okay,” he agrees, giving Dean a small smile. Dean looks at least somewhat appeased, and then he looks quick over his shoulder, checking that they’re alone before leaning along the bench seat and looking up at Sam with dirty grin. 

Sam’s stomach flutters, probably always will, when it’s Dean. He smiles properly then and ducks his head back inside the car to kiss Dean, quick. “‘Kay, Dean, gotta go. Homework!” 

He waves as he runs up the driveway and he can see Dean shaking his head as he watches. His brother waves back at him, waiting until he's inside the cabin before taking off. 

Sam shuts the door behind him, turns all the locks, nudges the salt back in place with the toe of his boot and then leans on the wood, listening. The rumble of the Impala fades away down the street only to be replaced with a pounding in Sam’s ears. He kicks off his boots and nearly trips over himself on the way to the bathroom. 

Looking at it off the hanger, laid out in his lap, Sam suddenly feels ridiculous. It’s got to be the worst idea he’s had recently, but it’s there now, he’s alone, so he might as well try it out. He strips out of his clothes but he’s less excited about it, feeling too dumb now, and then he slides it on, tops and bottoms. It feels weird, nothing like boxers or briefs, and the straps don’t want to stay on his shoulders. His cock bulges at the front, pushing against the lace panel even though he’s only half hard, because it’s not designed for a guy and it makes Sam feel stupid until he huffs and turns to look at himself in the mirror. 

His cheeks might as well be the same colour as the material, a bright, bold red, but his mouth goes dry. He swallows thickly and moves around a little bit, looking at himself from different angles. He– he _does_ feel pretty. The silky material covering his ass is smoother and softer than anything he’s worn before and he likes how the lace front feels on his cock as it grows behind it. The bra is just a barely-there scrap of a thing, a satiny ribbon around his ribcage and lacey little triangles instead of cups – Sam’s not sure how it works for anyone with actual boobs – but he can see his nipples through it and he’s pretty sure Dean is going to like that. 

By the time his dick is all the way hard and poking out the top, Sam is breathing heavily and convinced this was a good idea after all. He’s itching to jerk off but these are for Dean, for Christmas, and he doesn’t want to ruin them. He takes everything off carefully, not wanting to tear any of the delicate lace, and replaces it in the garbage bag, shoving it down underneath his text books. Focusing on homework tonight might be a little more difficult than normal. Only thirteen more days… 

\---

It’s snowing like it means business outside, they’re alone Christmas Eve – something that's become the usual over the last couple years – and Dean knows something is up. He keeps eyeing Sam suspiciously, this time giving him a nudge with his foot as Sam sits on the opposite end of the couch from him, absently watching _It’s a Wonderful Life_ for the millionth time on the crappy TV in front of him. 

“Sam, you do know there is no actual fat man in red coming to leave you presents tonight, right?” 

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam says without looking back at him, but Dean doesn’t drop it. He brings a hand to his chest in mock concern.

“Okay, but actually,” he insists. “I _have_ given you the 'Santa’s not real' talk, right? I wouldn’t want you to be heartbroken tomorrow.”

Sam does look at him now, classic bitch face, and Dean grins like he won something. He laughs and puts his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright,” he winks. “Just checkin’. Wouldn’t want you to cry when all you get is one lousy something from me.” 

Dean wiggles his toes against Sam’s thigh as he says that, and Sam’s heart leaps in his chest. 

“You got me something?” Sam beams and Dean tries to look offended, but he gets caught up in Sam’s smile.

“‘Course I did, kiddo, c’mon,” Dean admonishes. “I’m the best big brother ever.”

Sam snorts but shifts on the lumpy couch cushion to get his legs underneath him, facing Dean now. 

“Where is it?” Sam pushes and Dean scoffs.

“I ain’t tellin’, Sammy. You gotta wait till tomorrow. That’s the whole point.” Dean shakes his head like he can’t believe Sam right now. “Brat.”

“What if–” Sam feels his cheeks start to heat up already, just at the idea. “What if I give you yours?”

“A present? For me, Sammy? You shouldn’t have,” Dean teases. 

“Duh,” Sam chirps, like it’s obvious he did, like they actually have the means instead of barely scraping by in this assbackwards, nowhere town. 

His cheeks are on fire now, and he swallows thickly, trying not to bounce excitedly in his seat, but the energy has to go somewhere. 

Dean’s expression changes as he watches him, eyes narrowing. 

“Sam,” Dean’s voice drops a little and he drags out Sam’s name, the long, rumbly sound of it making Sam’s skin prick up. God, Dean can play Sam like a fiddle, it’s a miracle their father hasn’t caught on, the way Sam's body seems to respond to Dean without any help from Sam. “You got something for me, baby boy?” 

Sam shivers when Dean calls him that, an audible little gasp escaping his lips as Dean sits up, dropping one leg off the couch onto the floor, making room for Sam, a clear invitation. 

“Maybe,” Sam says, breathless already as he climbs into Dean’s lap, and the way Dean’s looking at him right now thrills him, makes him feel like the only thing in existence. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dean purrs, tucking a strand of Sam’s hair behind his ear. Sam chases his hand with his face and Dean strokes his cheek next, holding it like Sam wanted. “You wanna give it to me now, huh?” 

Sam nods eagerly and he doesn’t care if it’s pathetic. The last two weeks have been agony. “Yeah.”

“Well I’m not about to stop you,” Dean leans in to murmur against Sam’s lips. “Go on then.” 

He lets go of Sam, clearly thinking Sam has to go get something, but Sam is two steps ahead of him. He took the opportunity while Dean was in the shower earlier to put it on, under his clothes. He’s been trying to hide his hard-on from Dean ever since, tucked up against the arm of the couch. 

“I, um,” Sam starts, blushing, and he had it all planned out, what he was going to say, but he’s suddenly shy. _I’m your present_ , he was going to say, _unwrap me_ , but it’s cheesy like bad porn and he can’t make the words come out now that they’re here. 

Dean is such a shit so much of the time but he’s got all his focus on Sam right now so he’s tender in moments like this and Sam doesn’t know which is worse. 

“S’okay Sammy, whatever it is,” he says, sliding his hands along the outside of Sam’s thighs. “You don’t have to.”

“Dean,” Sam huffs. Like he’s going to abandon ship now. No way, no fucking way. He can’t make himself say shit but– “close your eyes?”

Dean’s eyebrows go up half an inch, then settle again as he smiles. “Sure, Sammy.”

Sam watches Dean clamp his eyes shut, then waves a hand in front of his face to be sure. Satisfied, he takes a deep breath, and reaches for the hem of his sweater, tugging it up over his head and tossing it on the floor. He’s breathing too hard now, no going back, sitting in Dean’s lap wearing a bra, trying not to squirm. He reaches for the button on his jeans, but his hands are shaking so bad he can’t– he’s shaking all over, actually, and there’s no way Dean doesn’t notice. 

“Sam–” he sounds concerned, smoothes his hands along Sam’s legs again, aiming for reassuring, but he must open his eyes, because– “ _Sammy_.”

Sam whimpers and gives up on the button just as Dean’s hands reach for his, covering them. 

“Baby, shit,” Dean’s voice sounds different now, Sam’s not sure he’s heard it like this before, barely there, maybe pained. His eyes fly up to Dean’s and his brother is looking at him like– like– “ _Jesus Christ, Sam._ ”

Dean goes for the button on Sam’s jeans, opening them just enough to see the peek of red lace underneath, brushing his fingertips against the material. “Fuck. Can you stand up? Sammy, you gotta let me see you.”

Sam nods dumbly, still trembling, and nearly bites it climbing off Dean’s lap, but Dean holds on to him, keeps him steady until they’ve moved so Sam is standing in between the vee of Dean’s knees. He’s still shaking so Dean guides both Sam’s hands to his shoulders, looking Sam in the eye, shaking his head in disbelief. 

Once Sam is stable, Dean undoes his pants the rest of the way, pushes them off Sam’s hips and groans like he’s dying as they pool at Sam’s feet. Sam fumbles to step out of them, socks too, and holds on to Dean the whole while. When he’s finally, finally standing there in nothing but the stolen lingerie, Dean puts a hand on each of his hips, thumbs rubbing over the lace in the front. 

“This all for me, Sammy?” he whispers, awed, and Sam is so short on oxygen right now, between his aching dick and his lungs apparently forgetting how to function… he’s afraid he might pass out. 

He nods again, then finally manages to stutter out, “You like it?”

“ _Sam_ ,” Dean squeezes his hips. “I _love_ it. Have you seen yourself? _Fuck_.”

Dean’s voice is a little shaky now, and Sam stares at his brother in wonder as he scrubs a hand across his jaw, then reaches for Sam’s chin. 

“Never seen anything more beautiful than you in my whole damn life,” Dean tells him, wearing the most deadly serious expression as he holds Sam’s face in his hand so he can’t look away, can’t miss what Dean’s saying. Sam’s chest bursts with warmth as his brother’s words settle over him and he feels like he can breathe again. He finally smiles, which seems to break the spell he momentarily cast on his big brother. 

Dean pulls Sam back into his lap and kisses him in a hurry, hungry. Sam’s knees bracket his waist and his arms fold together around Dean’s neck as Dean licks into his mouth. 

“Do you even know, Sam–” he bites at Sam’s lip. “Any idea what you do to me? Christ.” 

Sam is dizzy with relief and pride at the way Dean is reacting, and the next thing he knows, Dean is shimmying forward and standing up, Sam still wrapped around him. Sam squeezes his legs around Dean’s waist to keep from falling, while Dean gets both hands under Sam’s ass to do the same. 

He carries Sam to the double bed they share in the only bedroom this place has, and Sam buries his face in Dean’s neck to hide the insane grin on his face. All the nerves are gone now, replaced instead with sheer glee and want so bad Sam can barely keep from rocking his hips to rub against Dean’s stomach. 

“Oh, baby boy, it’s coming, don’t you worry,” Dean squeezes Sam’s ass, push-pulls him harder, making Sam gasp at the friction. 

He knees onto the bed with Sam still clinging to him, then coaxes him to let go even though it’s the last thing Sam wants to do. Dean pins him to the mattress with a searing kiss and Sam relaxes into it, one of Dean’s hands unhooking Sam’s arms from his neck. 

“Don’t you move,” Dean says once he’s free, and he steps back off the bed. 

Sam shifts fitfully against the mess of sheets, eyes glued to Dean while his brother wastes no time, stripping out of his clothes like it’s one of Dad’s drills. He stands there in nothing but the necklace Sam gave him for Christmas a few years back, absently stroking himself while he takes in the sight of Sam spread out on the bed. 

The attention makes it even harder for Sam to stay still, Dean’s eyes on him dark and heavy in a way he can feel, a promise. Dean whistles low and shakes his head like he still can’t believe what he’s seeing and Sam feels like he could split in two at any moment. 

“Goddamn,” Dean exhales, and he knees back onto the bed. He looks every bit the graceful hunter he is, muscles rippling under the miles of his smooth, freckled skin, so thick compared to Sam’s lean frame, but as excited as he is to grow big and tall like his brother, Sam is terrified to lose this. Dean is above him on hands and knees, casting a shadow over him like a blanket, and Sam looks up at him with wide-eyed adoration. 

“What do you want, baby? Anything you want, it’s yours, just tell me.” Dean leans down to kiss at Sam’s lips, quick. Sam tips his head up to catch his mouth but he’s already moving on, kissing at Sam’s face, along his jaw, up to his ear, nuzzling in, humming when Sam whines. 

“Tell me, Sammy,” Dean purrs, and Sam can barely think he’s so hard, nearly out of his mind with need.

“S’ for you De,” he gets out, arching his back and reaching for Dean with arms that tremble, snaking them around his brother’s neck. “Want whatever you want. Want it all.”

Dean half groans, half growls as he buries his face in Sam’s neck. Sam shivers when Dean’s teeth graze the edge of his collarbone, and then his brother is kissing him again, his tongue slipping inside Sam’s ready, open mouth. Sam sucks on it eagerly, desperate for any part of Dean inside him, and he feels it when Dean moans at the pull. When Sam eases up, Dean pulls back enough to shake his head at him again, breathing heavily. 

“Fuck,” Dean curses in the warm space between them. “Can’t get over how gorgeous you are, all dolled up like this. All for me.”

“All for you,” Sam parrots, breathy, then tips his chin up to kiss his brother again, ready to shake apart with need and hours of anticipation, so keyed up at this point it won’t take much before he’s wrecking his panties. Sam sucks Dean’s tongue back into his mouth, letting the smooth muscle fill him, the feeling only feeding the sense of urgency, making Sam’s dick twitch against the lace that keeps it trapped against his belly.

Dean moans at the pull of Sam’s mouth and slides a hand down Sam’s body, his thumb grazing one lace-covered nipple. Sam gasps, releasing Dean’s tongue, and he squirms as Dean pulls back and starts giving more attention to Sam’s chest.

“Might be for me but…” Dean leans down to meet Sam’s arching body, teasing one nipple with his teeth. “I think you like it, too.”

Sam can’t confirm or deny either way, only able to whine as Dean sucks at him now, through the material. Sam’s hands fumble for Dean’s head, pushing and pulling both because somehow it’s too much and not enough all at once.

Dean looks up at him through his lashes, quietly smug the way he is with everything that has to do with Sam, especially like this, green eyes dark and one hand still playing with Sam’s nipple. “You feel pretty, baby boy?”

Shivery hot waves of pleasure wash over Sam from head to toe when Dean calls him that, fuck. Sam doesn’t understand half the shit that drives his brother crazy – stuff he’s pretty sure isn’t normal even for folks who don’t fuck their brothers – but Dean sure seems to always know exactly what to say or do to bring Sam that much closer to the edge.

“Hey, Sammy?” Dean eases up when he asks again, and Sam knows from experience that means he won’t get any more until he can find the words to answer. “You like how it feels?”

Sam swallows thickly, tries to find his voice as the spit-soaked material drags over his abused nipple, a little sore but still lighting him up inside, still making it hard to think.

“Yeah, Dean,” he finally admits, barely audible, his voice rough. “Feel pretty. Like how you look at me.”

“Mmm,” Dean hums approvingly at that, reaching out to press his palm against Sam’s straining dick, making Sam suck in a breath.

“You’re too good to me, baby. Treat me so nice,” Dean rubs at him with intention now, gently, pulling the lace across Sam’s soft skin. It’s so different from the worn cotton of his boxers, delicate and a little rough even. That, combined with the pressure of Dean’s hand, and Sam can’t help it. He moans and pushes against Dean’s palm, humping his hips up, eyes fluttering shut with the overwhelming sensations.

“You _do_ like it, shit, look at you.” Dean is awed, sounds just this side of pained even, and as he picks up the pace of his hand, Sam starts to slip away towards that blissful place. “Gonna mess up these pretty panties, Sammy?”

Sam whines, digging his nails into Dean’s shoulders because yeah, he really is, especially if Dean is going to keep talking like that. 

He nods frantically, hair whipping across his face, a mess on the pillow, his toes curling in the sheets. 

“Oh, fuck.” Dean always sounds like this when Sam is close, like _he’s_ the one about to blow it, and his brother’s voice only speeds Sam on. “That’s it, Sammy, c’mon. Come for me baby boy–”

Sam cries out as he finally does, a strangled echo of Dean’s name, spilling into the underwear and pulsing against Dean’s hand. He can feel it seeping through the lace, spreading everywhere even as Dean slows his hand and eases up on the pressure as though in time with the final waves of Sam’s orgasm.

Sam feels as though he just ran a dozen laps around his school, or spent all day sparring. He’s breathing hard, in huge gulping breaths as his muscle finally let up, body going loose and heavy.  
“Sammy, Jesus.” Dean is kissing him again, but Sam is too slow, uncoordinated as he belated moves his mouth, too. Dean kisses at his face, his chin, along his jaw, all in a rush, then– 

“ _Dean._ ” Sam startles as his big brother mouths at him through the ruined lace, sucking at the mess and making Sam whine. He’s too sensitive but it’s still good, and he doesn’t stop being at least half hard while Dean keeps at it, thrilling at the _dirtybadwrong_ of it, how messed up it is that Dean laps up his come like a starving man but _god_ those hungry sounds Dean makes might cause Sam to combust.

“ _Dean!_ ” Sam moans as his dick starts to fill again but his body is too sluggish still, and the thrusts he makes against Dean’s face are weak at best.

“Yeah, Sammy, fuck. You’re killing me,” Dean growls more than says, sitting back and reaching for Sam’s hips. “Flip over, kiddo.”

Dean shoves at him, helpful as opposed to rough, and Sam goes easily under his hands, his heart thumping hopefully in his chest, his dick throbbing in time. He rolls over onto his stomach and Dean doesn’t have to ask, Sam just cants his hips and pushes his ass up for his brother like it belongs to him. It’s not slutty if he's only like this for Dean; at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“God, Sammy.” Not that Dean is complaining, of course. “That _ass_.”

He grabs a handful of one cheek, hard, trying not to lose his grip despite the satin back. The material is silky smooth even as it digs in at the press of Dean’s fingers, the tug on the panties pulling the soaked, sticky lace against Sam’s dick. Sam keens and pushes back into Dean’s hand.

“Yeah, baby, I gotta–” Dean starts, but he trails off as he drapes himself over Sam’s back, nudging Sam’s legs apart with his knees before settling, pinning Sam to the bed with his own legs, his hips, and his blood hot, iron hard dick slotted against the satin-clad crack of Sam’s ass. 

“Feel so good,” Dean murmurs against Sam’s ear, dragging his teeth along the shell of it, making Sam shiver even though he’s more at risk of burning up than anything else. 

Dean pushes up onto his forearms for better leverage, finding a rhythm, sliding his dick back and forth as he ruts against his little brother, matching _uh-uh-uhs_ forced out of them both in time to the thrust of his hips. 

Sam is trapped under the full weight of Dean’s body, anchored by his cock pressing against his ass, his own dick almost chafing between the lace and the sheets, jostled back and forth with his brother’s movements. There’s an increased urgency to it now, and Sam is startled to realize that Dean is close already.

“De,” Sam whines, doesn’t care how desperate he sounds, but he had wanted his big brother _inside_ him. “Wanted you to– to–”

“To what, Sammy?” Dean nips at his ear, panting and still managing to sound fucking smug.  
“Wanted you to fuck me,” Sam huffs out, knows he can’t win unless he says it.

“Oh, baby boy,” Dean reassure him. “I’m gonna. Gonna fuck you so hard you still feel it when I’m fucking you into next year–”

Sam makes a strangled noise at that, clinging to the sheets and just taking it, revelling in the teasing slam of Dean’s hips, the hard length of him dragging across his hole, so good but not enough. 

“– but first I’m gonna come all over these panties, make a mess of you Sammy, fuck. So fucking pretty for me, so good–”

Dean’s words get lost in the sound he makes when he comes, wet warmth spreading over the small of Sam’s back and his ass as Dean keeps thrusting, his rhythm broken and slowing. Sam just melts into mattress, drowning in the heat of his brother’s sweat-sticky body as Dean sighs into Sam’s ear, collapsing on top of him and sounding every bit as ruined as Sam’s stolen underwear. 

Sam is still breathing heavily, with want and Dean currently crushing him, but he’d happily stay smothered here, feeling each breath his brother takes against his back. 

Dean kisses lazily at Sam’s neck, then along his shoulder as he props himself up a little. “You’re so damn good to me, Sam.”

Sam grins into the pillow, then turns to the side to look at Dean and breathe easier, all the worry and anxiety gone now that his dumb idea paid off. 

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Sam offers, quietly pleased with how it’s all turned out. 

“Oh, Sammy.” Dean grins back at him, kissing his shoulder once more before sitting back on his heels. He whistles, low and appreciative, at the sight of his handiwork drying on Sam’s skin, staining the panties. He traces his finger through the mess, then starts to tug at the wrecked material, pulling it down. “We are just getting started.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos are love <3


End file.
